


Dinner with the Enemy

by Lyledebeast



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Cooking, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Friendship, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, and living spaces, barely there Reylo, mentions of Finn/Rose Tico, mostly related to food, non-star wars elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyledebeast/pseuds/Lyledebeast
Summary: Finn reluctantly accepts Poe's invitation to come to dinner with him and a certain former First Order general, mass-murderer, and wine snob.





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for this fandom. I've read some brilliantly thought-out and beautiful stories about Poe and Hux developing an unlikely bond that grew into love in unexpected circumstances. These got me wondering, what happens after the war is over? How do Poe's friends, who are so important to him, react to their relationship? This is my very crack-y attempt to imagine how that might go.
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Peace had proven more complicated than Finn had imagined.  Granted, he had not had much time for imagining; until recently it had seemed so very far out of reach.  Now, while it a relief to not be in near-constant danger of being killed, he was often at a loss as to what to do with himself.  His new job, training new soldiers in combat, lacked the urgency he had grown used to before the war ended, and left him with more free time.  Some of it he spent with Rose, but that was complicated, too.  She liked him; that much was clear after she not only saved his life but kissed him too.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like her as well, but he wanted to take his time.  After his years of captivity as a stormtrooper, discouraged from forming any kind of attachments, he was still trying to figure out regular friendships. A girlfriend, he thought, was a different challenge altogether.

He wished he could talk to Poe, or even Rey about it, if only to get his thoughts out of his own head, but peace had only brought them more responsibilities.  Responsibilities no one could have predicted, to the last people anyone would have expected.

He supposed it was inevitable that General Hux would want something in exchange for defecting from the First Order, for providing General Organa with information that had turned the tide of the war.  Finn just didn’t understand why it had to be his best friend.

Poe was willing enough, he knew.  And that was the strangest part of all.  Of course, Poe could charm anyone. He could see potential in them they never realized they had and get them to do things they had never believed themselves capable of.  He only hoped he had given Poe enough in return for all he had given him.

But what in the galaxy could he possibly get from _Hux_? That was the thing.  He supposed he could buy that they had bonded when they were forced to rely on each other for survival after being stranded. He could understand Poe being glad the war was over, could even understand his being thankful for Hux’s part in that.  But he seemed to actually _like_ the guy.

That his feelings might go deeper was not something Finn was ready to think about yet.

But he did miss Poe, so much that when he invited him home for dinner, with Hux, he couldn’t refuse.

“I . . . I suppose I can do that,” he’d answered, uncertain.

The grin Poe gave him in return almost made it worthwhile. “Great! You can come tomorrow . . .” He looked down in thought, raising a finger to his lips.  “Eh, maybe not tomorrow night.  How about the night after that?”

“I can do that,” Finn answered, watching Poe’s face.  His confidence had slipped; there was something uneasy in his eyes.

“You haven’t told . . . him yet, have you?”

Poe’s eyes widened.  “It’s not that!” he insisted, a little to eagerly.  “I just . . . you know.  I don’t want to spring anything on him.  He told me he hasn’t gotten a chance to cook in a long time and . . .”

Finn stopped with a raised hand.  “Wait, _Hux_ is cooking for us? General Hux of the First Order is making us dinner?”

“Well, buddy, you don’t want my cooking!” Poe cried.  “After all that time eating rations I’m still getting used to normal food.”

Finn could only look at him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion at the idea that General Hux could do anything as life-sustaining as preparing food.  He had hoped that, eventually, Poe would be more comfortable leaving him at home alone.  This alternative had not really crossed his mind before.

“And he’s not a First Order general anymore,” Poe reminded him.  His smile had vanished and his eyes were earnest, almost pleading.  “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to poison us.”

Finn looked away, thinking about that for a minute.  No, he supposed Hux wouldn’t try to kill anyone at such close range.

“You’re . . . you’re not changing your mind, are you?”

When he saw Poe’s worried frown, he found himself shaking his head.  “No, I’ll still come.”

Poe smiled, relieved, and gave Finn’s shoulder a squeeze.  “Great! Looking forward to it,” he said, and for a moment Finn felt it too.

As soon as they parted, though, his anxiety crept back.  How was he going to make small talk over whatever First Order officers ate with the man who had destroyed an entire system?

Well, I’ve been through worse, Finn thought to himself.  It was true; he was lucky to still be alive.  But none of those dangers he’d faced had prepared him for this.

* * *

By the time the appointed day had arrived, Finn was positively dreading the evening.  He had told no one about his plans, and his growing anxiety had made him irritable.  He was getting so short-tempered with the new recruits he was training that Rose took him aside and asked what was wrong.

“Nothing, just not sleeping well,” he had replied, and then concentrated on being more patient.  It wasn’t a lie; his impending dinner plans had kept him awake the previous night. But Rose wouldn’t understand, he thought.  She might even try to talk him out of it.

For all his concerns, he was determined to see this through.  After all, he had Poe had not fought in a war together just to not see each other once peace came, had they?

He made a point of going to the airbase in the afternoon when he knew Poe would be between training sessions.

“Everything good for tonight?” he asked.  He watched Poe as he nodded enthusiastically; there was something different about him.  Something was missing.

“Poe, where’s BB-8?”

Poe looked down at his side where the droid was usually to be found, as though he wasn’t sure before he raised his palm to his forehead with a light smack.

“Oh, yeah! They wanted to stay with Hux today, to help him.”

Finn’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  Poe and BB-8 were inseparable.  It wasn’t hard to imagine Hux demanding that Poe leave the droid behind, in spite of how much Poe needed them.  But BB-8 wanting to stay? That was hard to believe.

“But . . . they’re not a kitchen droid,” he offered lamely, remembering even as he spoke how many times BB-8 had surprised him with what they could do.

“No, but they can get things for him, and store the files with his recipes.  They were just a here a little while ago and they . . .” Poe trailed off as he began to laugh heartily.

“They what?” Finn asked, Poe’s laughter making him smile in expectation.

“They pulled this huge knife Hux had asked for out of their storage compartment to show it to me, and I panicked for a second.  I forgot the recruits are still learning binary.  If they could understand, they might find it weird that my droid is taking weapons to Hux.”

Finn’s smile disappeared.  It was a perfectly reasonable thing to find weird, in his opinion.

“What does he need such a big knife for?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, and it was some comfort when Poe just shrugged in response.

“I honestly have no idea,” he replied.  “I don’t know what he’s making; most of the ingredients I didn’t even recognize.  But he must have been happy with what the market droids picked out because he . . . he was very appreciative”

Finn thought he could see a faint blush on Poe’s cheeks and forced the image of what that appreciation might look like from his mind.  Nope.  He definitely wasn’t ready to think about _that_.

“Is there anything I can bring? Wine or . . .” What would be appropriate to bring to dinner with a former enemy general? Dessert? His blaster? Flowers?

Poe’s forehead creased in thought as he pressed his lips together.  “Hmmmm.  I don’t know about that.  I think . . . I think we’re probably good on drinks.  I mean, you can bring whatever you like, buddy, but Hugs might . . . “

“Who?” Finn gasped, incredulous.  He knew it wasn’t the first time Poe had called Hux that, but the other time had been so long ago.  And the circumstances couldn’t have been more different.

Poe’s cheeks flushed again.  “I just mean . . . I’m sure Hux has already chosen wine that is perfect.  And I’ve learned my lesson about bringing the wrong thing home.  You just bring yourself, and that will be plenty.”

“Okay,” Finn replied, more in resignation than anything.  What did he mean by “learned my lesson?” The thought of Hux ordering Poe around in his own home both chilled and infuriated him at the same time.  Who did he think he was? He should be grateful that he wasn’t a prisoner anymore.

He realized his resentment must have shown on his face when Poe smiled.  “Would you believe me if I told he’s as nervous about this as you are?” he asked.

Finn had to laugh at that.  “Nope. Not a chance!”


	2. Dinner

At Poe’s suggestion, he had gone back to the airbase after his last session of the day so they could walk back to Poe’s apartment together.  Finn had never agreed to anything so fast, overwhelmed with relief that there was no chance of his arriving there before Poe and being greeted by Hux alone.

The tall, red-haired man who answered the door had to be him, Finn knew; it couldn’t be anyone else.  But he looked so very different from the last time he had seen him.  It wasn’t just that his hair had grown longer and was neatly tucked behind his ears, or that his sideburns had been shaved shorter. Or even that he was dressed in civilian clothes: a grey button-down shirt tucked into his charcoal trousers, a plain white apron still tied around his waist.  There was something subdued about his manner that Finn couldn’t quite put his finger on.  Under any other circumstances, he would not have recognized him.  That was probably a good thing, he decided.

He took note of how Hux reached for Poe, only to pull back once he caught sight of Finn standing beside him.

“Hello . . . Finn.” It came out as a question, Hux searching his face as though trying to remember his features and falling short.

“Hi Hux,” he replied coolly, glad that he had already asked Poe what to call him on the way over.  He doubted “General” would have gotten things off to a very good start.

“It’s good to see you . . .” Hux went on, trailing off as though he considered adding “again” and decided against it.  As though he was not at all sure that it was good.  Maybe Poe was right, Finn considered with amazement.  Perhaps he was a little nervous.

“Why don’t you come in and have a seat?” Hux said as he stepped back to let him enter.  “Everything is ready.  I’ll bring you a glass of wine.”

“What about me?” Poe asked from the doorway.  “Do I get to come in and be given wine too?” Finn could hear the mischief in his voice.

Hux scoffed.  “I suppose so.  Just wipe your boots carefully before you do.”

Poe chuckled, and Finn heard the scraping of Poe’s boots on the mat outside, followed by the faint smack of a kiss being given.  He quickened his steps towards the table.

* * *

To Finn’s relief, Poe filled the silence from the moment they sat down with accounts of his new recruits, their enthusiasm and their mistakes.  He regaled Finn with story of one young woman who had gotten her X-wing into the air easily enough but seemed to lose her ability to understand instructions when it came to getting it down.

“I don’t know what happened.  Maybe she just panicked and hid it well.”

“Or maybe she just wanted your company,” Hux offered with a sly look at Poe over the rim of his wine glass.  “I can’t imagine why.”

Poe smiled back at him and reached for his own glass, cradling the bowl in his palm.  Finn watched Hux’s eyes lower to Poe’s hand and narrow, his lips pressing tight together.  Poe turned to him.

“He hates the way  I hold my glass,” he explained, his smile only growing.

Hux pointed a finger at Finn so quickly that it made him jump.  “He’s doing it right.”

Finn dropped his eyes to his own glass, the stem held between his thumb and forefinger.  The dry white tasted harsh to him, but he took another sip self-consciously.

“White wines are chilled,” Hux pointed out to Finn.  “When you hold it in your palm like that.” He glared at Poe out of the corner of his eye. “The heat from your hand warms the wine.”

Poe looked at him with rapt attention.  “Is that so? That’s fascinating.” He lifted his glass for another sip, still cradled in his palm.

Hux gave a dismissive shake of his head and glanced in Finn’s direction.  Finn took another spoonful of his soup.

When Hux had first brought it out, the temperature had surprised him.

“Oh, it’s cold!” he’d exclaimed.  His experience with soup had been limited, as has his experience with a variety of foods, and he had only ever been served it during cold weather, when it was meant to keep him warm.

For an impossibly long moment, Hux had only stared at him before saying, “Well, it’s summer now. It’s a summer soup.”

Finn couldn’t detect any mockery in his tone, surprisingly.  It was as though it truly had not occurred to him that anyone might find that idea strange.

Of course, he has no idea what lowly stormtroopers ate aboard his ship, Finn thought bitterly.  Why would he?

“It’s good,” he offered, forcing the idea from his mind.

Hux’s wary expression thawed just enough for a tight smile, and then his eyes were on Poe again.

When Hux got up to clear away their soup and salad dishes, Finn heard a familiar beep behind him.

“BB-8!” he cried, turning as the droid rolled towards him across the carpet.  “Where were you, buddy? I missed you this afternoon.”

 _With him_ the droid beeped accusingly, pointing one of their appendages at Hux. _I had to power-up after he wore me down all afternoon_

“You’re angry with me?” Hux asked with a raised eyebrow.  “I thought you wanted to stay here.”

_I wanted to help.  It was more work than you led me to believe._

Hux gave an apologetic shrug.  “I’m sorry.  I had forgotten myself.” He sounded genuine, Finn thought.  Even a little sheepish. “Do you want to help me serve the main course?”

BB-8 whirred, their version of a sigh, and rolled towards Hux.

“Hey, don’t I get a hello, buddy?” Poe teased.

The droid turned and sped to him, leaning against his chair as he bent down to kiss their dome.

“You alright?”

BB-8 bleeped in affirmation.

“Good.  Go on and help Hux.”

“Wow,” Finn said to Poe when they were alone.  “BB-8 has warmed up to him.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Poe nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Well, BB-8 is a good judge of character.  As you remember.”

Finn frowned.  He wanted to take the compliment, but he couldn’t help but resent the comparison.  At the very least, he was easier to get along with than Hux.

He was mulling over his reply when BB-8 and Hux returned, the droid carrying a tray with three low, wide bowls and three smaller ones, and Hux following behind with another bottle of wine.

“Careful, careful,” he cautioned as the bowls jostled against each other.

Once BB-8 had rolled to Poe’s side and the humans had served themselves, Hux reached for the stack of clean napkins at the side of the table, handing one to Poe and one to Finn. 

“I’m sorry that we have to reuse these, but someone thought that three wineglasses was enough.” He shot an accusing look at Poe as he wiped out his glass.

Poe shrugged.  “What can I say, Hugs?  I never knew I would need to drink so much until you came to live here.”

Finn looked to Hux, expecting him to bristle at the name, but to his surprise he only smirked.

“Well, then I’ve accomplished something all these months, haven’t I?”

Has it been that long? Finn wondered.  He supposed it had, and yet everything his life now—his home, his relationships—seemed so different.  The thought was enough to make him glad of the wine when Hux refilled his glass.

It was a red this time, smooth and rich.  Much more to his taste than the white had been.  He took another sip, and another, beginning to relax for the first time since he arrived.  It was only when Hux gave him a worried glance that he realized he had forgotten about the dishes in front of him.

The larger bowl was filled with slices of meat, still tender and red in the center, and carefully sliced green vegetables in a golden broth.  The smaller bowl contained a vivid green sauce with a pungent aroma of garlic and cheese.  Finn felt his mouth begin to water.

“Am I holding it right now?” he heard Poe ask.  Glancing up, he saw him holding wine glass just the same way as before, looking at Hux with an impish grin.

Hux gave an exaggerated sigh and stirred his dish. “Yes.”

 Finn felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  They had had this conversation before, probably many times.  Poe just enjoyed messing with his . . . whatever Hux was. The word “boyfriend” presented itself to his mind, and it seemed a little less revolting than before.

Reaching for his knife and fork, Finn cut a slice of meat in half and dipped it into the green sauce.  Though only a tiny bit of it clung to the meat, it was as delicious as he had anticipated, and he quickly went back for the rest of the slice.

Hux and Poe had been talking about the wine, but as he continued eating, the conversation dropped off.  After a moment of awkward silence, Finn looked up to find Hux staring at him.

“No.  Not like that,” he said, his tone serious.

“I’m sorry?” Finn replied.  He meant it for clarification, but even to him it sounded like an apology.

“The meat doesn’t go in the pesto.  The pesto goes in the dish.  You have it backwards.”

Finn felt blood rush to his face and his grip tighten on his fork.  This was the Hux he remembered, the familiar crisp tone he had used to give orders on the Finalizer.  He may have been speaking more softly, but he sounded no less authoritative.  He remembered, too, the bland food with no discernable ingredients that he had eaten as a stormtrooper.  It had filled his belly and given him energy, but that was all that could be said for it.  And now he was expected to know how to eat what First Order generals ate with no explanation.  It was too much.

I can’t believe I’m about to go off on him over something as stupid as dinner, he thought to himself as his anger mounted; he opened his mouth to speak.

“Finn, buddy,” he heard Poe say before he could get the words out.  He looked to him and found his eyes bright with mirth.

“Listen, if he gets on your nerves, just kick him in the shins, okay?”

A shocked noise, half laugh and half gasp, burst from Finn’s throat before he could stop it. He covered his mouth in embarrassment, but Hux had turned to face Poe

“He’s the worst,” Poe went on, meeting his gaze.  “You’re absolutely awful.”

 _Poe’s right_ , BB-8 beeped.

Hux’s lips turned up at the corners even as he pressed them together, as though he was trying keep himself from smiling at these accusations and failing.

“He’s always criticizing me,” Poe told Finn.  “I tried to bring home a bottle of wine once, and I thought he was going to throw me out of my apartment.”

“Well, we just drank it, you fool!” Hux cried in mock indignation, his smile finally breaking free.

“We did?”

“Yes, that was the white.  White wine goes with vichyssoise.  Honestly, I try to teach you something and you . . . “

“Right, but you have a new victim now,” Poe interjected with a nod in their guest’s direction.  “Teach Finn.”

Hux sighed and shook his head, smiling at Poe fondly.  A blush had crept into his cheeks, and when he looked at Finn again, he could see how the color brought out the green in his eyes.

He realized it was the first time he had looked Hux in the eye for long enough to notice.

“When you dip the meat in the pesto, you put the broth in too,” he explained.  “The broth makes it watery and it doesn’t stick.  But if you put the sauce in the dish, then you get some pesto in every bite.”

Cautiously, Finn lifted the smaller bowl and poured it into the larger one, stirring it in before he speared another slice of meat and some greens.  This time, the flavor of the herbs and cheese was far more pervasive.

“That is better,” he assented, drawing a smile from Hux.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making Finn’s eyes widen in disbelief.  “Poe is right, I . . . I get a bit carried away sometimes.”

Relieved, Finn smiled back.  “That’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.”


	3. Dessert

After dinner, Hux asked if they would prefer to have dessert in the living room.  The speed with which Poe got up made Finn wonder if that wasn’t an order in disguise.  Still, he made no objection, but followed Poe into the room that he had only seen a few times before.

“Wow, this looks a lot different than I remember,” he said as he looked around.  In the past, the sofa and chairs had been strewn with the most random collection of clothes, papers, and dishes.

“Excuse the mess,” Poe had always said with an apologetic shrug.

Now, it was as tidy as the day he had helped Poe move in, if not more so; everything was in its place.

“You can probably guess how much that has to do with me,” Poe said with same half-embarrassed smile he always had before as he sat down on the sofa.  “Hux used to complain about my messiness.  But I think he’s come to appreciate it; it gives him something to do.”

Finn sat down in the armchair silently.  It was hard to know how to react to that; the situation was so irregular.  He had thought Hux should be glad to get out of his cell: grateful that General Organa trusted him that much.  But now?

“He must get awfully bored,” he said, looking through the dining room towards the kitchen.  “He used to have so much power and responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Poe agreed. “And he can’t really leave here either, except when the general needs some information from him, and she sends an escort.  If he went out on his own . . . well.  Not everyone is as forgiving as General Organa.”

Or you, Finn wanted to add, but the words had more rancor in them than he felt.

He was saved from having to reply when Hux returned, carrying two small, shallow dishes, followed by BB-8.

“I took a chance on you liking sweets, Finn,” he said, handing one to him.  “I never really warmed to them.”

“I do,” Finn replied, looking down at his dish.  It was filled with a creamy, pale yellow custard sprinkled heavily with coarse sugar.

Hux looked behind him.  “BB-8, if you will.”

The droid rolled towards Finn, putting out one of their appendages. Finn jumped when a tiny flame emerged from the end.

“You, ah, might want to put that on the table for just a moment,” Hux advised.

When Finn had done so, the droid hovered the torch over the dish, moving it back and forth until the sugar had melted and bubbled up.

“Whoa,” Finn gasped, awestruck.  “This looks incredible!”

Hux smiled.  “I hope you enjoy it.  BB-8 chose the recipe; they liked that it involved fire.”

BB-8 beeped in agreement before turning to brulee Poe’s dish.

“Thanks, buddy!” he exclaimed.

“Of course, thank the droid,” Hux scolded with an indignant huff.

Poe grinned devilishly as he sat he rose to his feet, reaching for Hux’s waist. Hux lowered his head as Poe raised up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, baby.”

Finn felt his eyes go wide.  Hux’s ears and cheeks flushed with color.  When he turned and saw Finn watching them, his blush spread up to his hairline and down his neck, leaving his whole face a vivid pink.

“I . . . I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he stammered.  “You . . . I’m sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on, so I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

 _The dishes, Hux_ , BB-8 bleeped.  _Come on.  I can help._

Hux sighed, following the droid without another word.

Finn looked back at Poe, who was biting his lip sheepishly.  “So, um,” Poe began. “So, how’s it going with you, buddy?

* * *

Finn told him about Rose, about his concerns that he wouldn’t know how to treat her if they did start dating.

“I know what you mean, buddy,” Poe replied.  “I really do.  But . . . it’s not as different as you think.”

Finn raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, I think there are probably some things that are pretty different.  I don’t . . . kiss my friends all that often.”

Poe gave a little laugh and shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess not everything is the same, sure.  But . . . they’re more similar than they are different, friendship and romance.”

Finn leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he considered that. “How?”

The question seemed to take Poe by surprise.  “Well, I mean . . . being with them makes you happy.  You want to make them happy.  You want to keep them safe.  You listen to them and care about they feel.  Try to be honest about how you feel.  The other stuff is . . . it’s a nice bonus.  But overall . . . yeah.  A lot of good romances start off as friendships, you know.”

Finn’s eyes went to the dining room again before he could check the impulse, fliting back to Poe when he heard him chuckle.

“I said a lot of them, buddy.  Not all.”

“I didn’t mean . . . I . . .” Finn trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

Poe reached for his knee, squeezing it.  “I know, Finn.  Believe me.  I know it’s weird.  I never expected anything like this to happen.  But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.  I mean, you and Rose didn’t exactly hit it off from the beginning, did you?”

Finn felt a smile stretch across his face as he remembered.  “No, we didn’t.”

* * *

Finn approached the kitchen cautiously, clutching the empty dessert dishes in his hand.  In spite of himself, he was still a bit nervous about speaking to Hux alone.  He was glad when he caught BB-8’s attention first.  _You’re not leaving, Finn, are you?_ the droid bleeped as it rolled towards him.

“I’m afraid I have to,” he said, looking down at BB-8 as they leaned against him. “Gotta rest up for tomorrow.”

He raised his eyes and saw Hux watching them.  The anxiety Finn had questioned before was plain on face now as he realized that Finn was alone, and somehow, that made him feel braver. He stepped into the kitchen, his hand outstretched.

“Here, I brought you these.  That was delicious, Hux.  Everything was.  Thank you for having me.”

As he took the dishes, he gave a tight smile.  “Thank you for coming,” he replied.

After he put the dishes in the sink, he turned and stretched out his hand. Finn was so surprised that he hesitated a moment before taking it. He thought he heard Hux heave a sigh of relief.

“I . . . know how much Poe misses you,” he said, eying Finn cautiously.  “I hope you’ll come back.”

Finn nodded, glancing down at their joined hands a second before Hux released him.  I’m going to need some time to process this, he thought to himself, but what he said aloud was, “Of course I will.”

* * *

Poe made his way back to the kitchen feeling weary but satisfied.  Some awkwardness on both sides was to be expected, of course, but he knew that if Finn could get past Hux’s imperiousness, and Hux put up with Finn’s inexperience, they would be fine.  But it had been exhausting having to hold their attention all evening.

He stood at the kitchen entryway, watching Hux and BB-8 for a moment.  The spectacle of the former commander of the Finalizer washing dishes in his sink always amused him. Hux had rolled up his shirtsleeves and was bent over, scrubbing the inside of a pot.  There was already a mountain of dishes in the drying rack, even as BB-8 was drying everything Hux handed to them.  Poe smiled at that, knowing that Hux would only trust the droid with the sturdiest dishes, even if it meant more work for himself.

“Has Finn gone?” Hux asked without looking at him.

“Yeah.” Poe advanced, a smile growing on his face.  “It’s okay, Hugs,” he teased.  “You can drop the charm and say what you really think now.”

He expected him to scoff, to shoot a scowl over his shoulder, but he only sighed and sat the pot down in the sink.

Poe’s smile faded as he lay his hand on Hux’s shoulder.

“You’re not angry with him, are you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

Hux finally turned to look at him, his hair falling into his face before he tucked it back behind his ears again. “No, it’s not that.  I just . . . how did you think that went?”

“Me? I thought you were great!”

Hux raised a critical eyebrow at him and turned the pot over, rinsing the bottom.

“You don’t agree?” Poe inquired, puzzled.  Hux had seemed fine after that tense moment with the pesto.  Had he missed something?

“Your friend seemed . . .” Hux began, trailing off in an uncharacteristic struggle to come up with the right word.  “Nice.”

Poe snorted. How had that word had given him so much trouble?  “Nice?”

“Well, I mean.  He didn’t stab me with his fork when he wanted to.  He has self-control, at least.”

Laughing, Poe lowered his hand to rest between Hux’s shoulder blades.  “Finn’s a cool guy; I’m sure stabbing you didn’t even cross his mind.  But yeah, I invited him first for a reason.  Rey probably would have kicked you in the shin.”

Hux did scoff at that as he handed the pot to BB-8.  “I doubt it,” he said.  “If she hasn’t murdered Ren yet, she must be more tolerant than you think.”

“Oh, come on,” Poe chuckled, dropping his hands to Hux’s waist.  “Just give it time.  She’ll be here for dinner with Ben before you know it.

Hux grimaced over his shoulder at him, just as he knew he would, an exaggerated shudder passing through him.  “Don’t even joke about that,” he growled.

Poe rested his forehead on Hux’s shoulder, feeling him relax. “Well, that’s a worry for another time. Let’s tuck this droid in before they complain about being run-down again.”

BB-8 gave an indignant bleep.  _I never complain without reason._

“I should hope not,” Hux said as he took the pot from the droid and pulled way from Poe to set it under the sink.  “And where do you think I was while you were powering up this afternoon?”

BB-8 lowered their dome, looking momentarily abashed.

When Hux reached for another dish, Poe decided that enough was enough.  “Surely you’re not trying to wash them all tonight, are you? Look how many you’ve done already.”

“Well, they’re not going to wash themsel . . .” Hux trailed off as Poe brushed his fingertips up the side of his neck, combing through his hair to pull it up at the nape.

“You’ve worked so hard today,” Poe cooed, pressing a kiss to his neck, just beneath his ear.

Hux sighed, tilting his head to give Poe more access.

“Aren’t you weary, Hugs?” he purred, kissing him again a little further down.  He felt Hux press back against him and grinned.

“Come on, baby.  You need some rest.”

To his surprise, Hux gave a shaky laugh at that.  “I can’t believe you called me that in front of Finn.  You should have seen his eyes!  I’m afraid he’ll never respect you again.”

Poe laughed softly, reaching to Hux’s front to untie the knot of his apron.  “Oh, I think he will.  He was just a little embarrassed.”

He slowly unwound the strings from Hux’s waist, listening for his breath to quicken and smiling when he heard it.  “You were a little embarrassed, too, to look at you.”

Hux scoffed again, with less conviction now that Poe was turning him, laying his apron on the counter to wrap his arms around him where it had been.  “That’s not fair.  I’m pale! I can’t hide how I feel.”

Poe stood on his toes, pulling Hux against him.  “Neither can I,” he murmured, and brought their mouths together.

When they broke apart, Hux was blushing again even as smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. BB-8 bleeped at them indignantly.

“What’s the matter, buddy? Are we ignoring you?” Poe asked.

They bleeped again.

“Let’s go,” Poe urged, pushing Hux towards the doorway gently, his hand on his lower back. “Once we take care of this droid, I’m taking care of you.”

 


End file.
